


It’s Okay To Leave If You Want

by bs99



Series: Misadventures of Gear in Gotham [1]
Category: Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019), Static Shock
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gear is around 18, Gear is badass, Gen, Homophobia, M/M, One Shot, Richie Foley/Virgil Hawkins - Freeform, Soul-Searching, just a little, protect gear squad, sprinkle of virichie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bs99/pseuds/bs99
Summary: “Harls, You know how I feel about strays.”“I thought you liked them,”Ivy then pointed at the extremely drunk superhero currently knocked out on their couch. “Not when they’re a literal superhero.”Or the Story of how Harley Quinn and her crew adopted Gear into their dysfunctional family
Series: Misadventures of Gear in Gotham [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048847
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38





	It’s Okay To Leave If You Want

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic has been living in my mind, rent-free. I just want it out of here.

Every day with Harley and the merry band of misfits was a headache for Poison Ivy. One morning, she found them covered in goo, tracking the slime all over her apartment floor and on her plants. And there was one time, Harley brought an ancient sarcophagus to use as a footstool for the new lair. It had been one wild thing after the other and each one was worse than the last. If she didn’t have something strong to pull her through the morning, she would have cracked months ago.

And today could be the day, she finally does.

When she walked into the lair with a hot mug of coffee in hand, she saw the last thing anyone wanted in a supervillain’s lair.

“Harls,” Ivy pleaded, a sliver of sanity holding her together. “You know how I feel about strays.”

“I thought you liked them,” Harley, who was sitting on the opposite couch and surfing through the channels on TV, pouted.

Ivy then pointed at the extremely drunk superhero currently knocked out on their couch. “Not when they’re a literal superhero.”

“Who? Him?” Harley snorted. “Oh please, he’s a sidekick. Plus, you said I need more hands in the crew.”

“Again, a superhero sidekick wasn’t my first suggestion.”

When Ivy’s headache couldn’t get any worse, three new ones walked into the lair, paper bags of bad burrito takeouts for breakfast in their arms. 

“We’re back!” Clayface announced before passing everyone their orders. “We’ve brought sustenance!”

King Shark, who was already on his second taco, said. “And it’s taco Tuesdays! So double tacos!” 

Psycho, upon seeing Gear sprawled on the cushion, asked. “And why is a twink on our couch?”

“Ask her,” Ivy hissed.

“Aww, C’mon, Ivs. The kid was literally drunk off his mind, on the roof with a full-on super gear.” Harley said. “It was pathetic! Even more than Kiteman!”

King Shark cringed. “Yikes, poor kid.”

“He’s waking up!” Harley gasped, scurrying to the hero’s side and watching him open his eyes. “Rise and shine, string bean.”

“...what?” Gear groaned, through his helmet. “Where am I?”

He scanned the room, Harley and her entire crew were in his swimming vision.

“You’re...Harley Quinn,” Gear spoke, unsure if this was real.

“Yeah, don’t you remember?” Harley laughed. “You tried to stop me, drunk off your mind, we fought on the rooftop, shared a couple of beers and you passed out.”

Gear, though his helmet obscured his face, wasn’t happy about the episode. Groaning, a headache reared in. “Oh Jesus, I’m in Gotham.”

“Happens to the best of us. When I got drunk, I ended up in Vegas and blew up a casino.” Harley comforted.

Ivy interjected. “What are you doing in Gotham? Aren’t from somewhere else?”

Gear, who was still dizzy, blurted out. “I got kicked out from my old man’s house and went on a drunken flying spree,”

“Oh shit, what’d you do? Stabbed someone? Burned a house down? Killed someone?” Harley asked, excited by the spicy news.

“No, I just—be gay, I guess?”

The entire crew went silent for a moment, processing what he just said before simultaneously having an outburst.

“You’re shitting me,” Ivy whispered.

“Are you sure we’re the villains here ‘cause that’s heartless, man?” King Shark followed. 

Psycho snarled before biting off a piece of his burrito. “What does it matter who you stick your dick in? Ain’t none of their business.”

“That piece of shit! And I’ve met a lot of them, I know my shit!” Harley roared before wolfing down her burrito. “Say the word. We’ll kill your homophobic dad, free of charge.”

Gear shook his head, hands raised. “No! He's—” He groaned. “Not worth it. I mean, I’m not surprised he kicked me out but he don’t deserve that.”

“You’re right,” Harley snarled. “He deserves a hell of a lot more!”

“You sure your parents aren’t villains?” King Shark repeated.

“A Hero being shunned by their kin because of who they are,” Clayface bellowed melodramatically. “A tragic yet common story.”

Harley gasped, an epiphany hitting her. “This is it! Your villain origin story!”

“My what?” Gear frowned, even her crew wasn’t saved from the confusion.

“You know! Be gay, do crimes!” She cheered. “Think about it! A sidekick who does nothing but good for the world, only for the universe to spit in his face and make his life miserable all because of who he loves! A spicy origin story!”

Gear whispered towards Ivy. “Is she always like this?”

“Constantly,” Ivy replied, sipping her coffee.

“How about you turn to the dark side?” Harley suggested. “The pay is good, we got dental!”

“We don’t,” The crew chimed in.

She pressed on. “We could use another tech nerd on our team,”

“Yeah, no, not happening.” Gear staggered up, dizzy from his hangover. “Look you all seem nice and all but you’re supervillains,”

“Y-You think we’re _‘super’_ villains!” Harley squealed, a hand over her heart. “Did you hear that crew? He thinks we’re super! Eat that Legion of Doom!”

“I can’t help you. Sorry.” Gear walked but before he could take three steps Harley turned to her crew and smirked.

“Iv?” She said. 

With the snap of Ivy’s fingers, the plant around them contort and stretch, wrapping its vines around Gear’s ankles, tripping him.

“Hey!” He yelped, his legs fully ensnared in her vines and held upside down. The crew, except Ivy, snickered. “Let go of me!”

“Not until you hear us out, string bean.” Harley purred. “We’re going to steal from Gotham's baddest and you’re gonna help us,”

The silence of the lair was eerie before Gear broke out in fits of laughter. “Not happening,”

Harley stood from her couch, a baseball in hand. “Let me make this deal, more interesting, hmm?” She tapped her bat against his helmet.

“Help us with a few heists, get stinking rich, fuck with the biggest baddy in Gotham City, give you a little street cred with the Heros, and—” Harley tapped his helmet again. “You get to keep your secret identity.”

Gear gasped, frozen by the fear of being exposed.

Seeing that the punishment was too harsh, Ivy frowned. “Really, Harls, Kinda low blow.”

“Fine,” Harley groaned before loosening her grip on the bat and glared at Gear. “Look, String bean,”

“Gear,” He corrected.

“Whatever. You got no friends, no home, no money, and a very big brain. We could help each other,” Harley leaned in, her face nearly touching his face-shield. “You won’t have to lift a damn finger or kill nobody. All you gotta do is make some tech, break a few security systems, and part ways as unlikely friends. And you get to stay here rent-free and I’ll throw in a free therapy session from yours truly.”

The offer was tempting but they were villains. Considering the pros, he did need the money and a place to stay but, on the other hand, they were villains. Going Static wasn’t an option for him since... 

Gear didn’t want to think about him.

“Gotham’s baddest, you mean villains? You’re stealing _only_ from them?” Gear said.

“Them and some banks,” Harley said.

“The deal's off if you use my tech on anyone but bad guys.”

“Oh c’mon—” Psycho interjected.

“Done,” Harley agreed.

“And no instruments of torture, I’m not building you anything that’ll hurt people.”

“Done,”

“Then, what are you good for?” Psycho asked impatiently.

“Build tech that’ll bring down an entire network and can get you into practically anywhere.” Gear smirked though his face wasn’t visible to them. “And If you try to use my tech against me or repurpose them, it’ll be the last thing you’ll ever do before it blows in your face, literally.”

King Shark laughed turning to Clayface. “I like this kid, can we keep 'em?”

“Done,” Harley gestured to Ivy, letting Gear go and helping him up. “Welcome to the crew,”

“I am not part of your crew, I’m more of a freelancer.” He hissed, glaring straight into Harley’s eyes. “You better keep your word, Harley Quinn.”

“I always do. Now, Let’s give you a tour of the lair! C’mon Ivs!” Harley cartwheeled away from her giddiness.

Ivy groaned, gesturing for their new member to follow her. “We got free room in the Electronic department, some parts and machines are lying around if you need any. We can steal you a bed later.”

* * *

Ivy didn’t know how to feel about a shape-shifting clay creature, a psychic misogynist, and a literal shark man bumming in her home/lair but she tolerated it because of Harley. Having a Superhero in her space, on the other hand, was testing it.

In the week he was here, Gear didn’t seem bad though. Besides keeping his identity and wanting privacy, he was a courteous guest, didn’t make a mess or track mud on the floor, and even offered to clean up the common area and water her plants. Ivy argued, he was too good to be messed up in all of this.

So, Ivy went digging for any information on Gear, hoping it’d ease her conscience, hoping Gear was a shitty person and justified for helping Harley with her heist. No such luck. Gear was a good guy, a partner of Static who sometimes aided Batman, and currently part of the Young Justice League.

In her bedroom, Ivy glared at Static’s profile on _‘www.knowyourenemies.com’_ and clicked on a candid photo of Static and the Young Justice League. She moved to an older photo, him and Gear flying through the skies. She shuts her laptop, groaning in desperate need of coffee.

She walked out to the lounge and beelined straight to the coffee machine. With a press of a button, the sound of grinding beans and its aroma filled the desolate mall.

Ivy paused, noticing Gear tinkering with his machine and other gadgets spread on a mat over her low table. At least, he had the courtesy to use a mat, keeping the glass scratch-free, unlike some people. 

On the table, Backpack, his robot pet spider thing, beeped at her, alerting Gear of Ivy’s presents. “Morning,” He greeted.

‘ _Was I really doing this?’_ Ivy thought begrudgingly. She wasn’t a good guy, why should she care about this kid? Was it because she couldn’t watch a trainwreck about to happen?

“Been reading about you,” Ivy started, making painfully idle conversation.

“All good things, I hope.” He joked.

 _‘The mouth on this kid.’_ She smiled, taking a seat next to him on the couch. “Very good things,”

The sound of grinding coffee distracted her. She closed her eyes. ‘ _Like a bandaid, Rip it out fast.’_ She thought.

“You and Static,” Gear froze. “You guys are friends?”

“Yeah,” She couldn’t see his face through his helmet but he sounded fond, nostalgic, and almost sad. “We used to fight crime together back in Dakota. Miss ‘em a lot.”

Ivy hummed, thinking back at the morning Gear came into their lives, hungover and kicked out by awful parents. “Is that why you ended up in Gotham, to find him?”

“I was gonna ask if we could team up again but…” His fingers twitched against his machine. “I found out he’s got a new team, a new life, rising with the greats. I couldn’t barge into his life with all my problems.”

“He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

Gear doesn’t spare her an answer, working on the EMP device for Harley’s latest heist. 

When eeriness stretched on, Ivy bit her lips, regretting what she was about to say.

“I don’t wanna sound like your mom. You can do whatever the fuck you want.” Ivy stared at the circuit boards and Electromagnetic pulse bombs, perfect for taking down the best security Gotham has. “But you sure you wanna go down this path?”

“You sound just like her,” Gear commented. His mom was never pushy, always kind but firm if she needed to be and smart too, which is why she divorced his dad as soon as Richie was old enough. Good for her, she deserved so much better.

Snapping away from the thoughts about his mom, Gear turned to Ivy. “Me and Harley talked about it, If I don’t wanna help in a heist, I don’t. She won’t force me. I only do the job that involves robbing bad guys and fucking over villains, that’s all.”

Was that answer enough for her?

The espresso machine beeped, coffee was finally ready to drink.

Ivy grimaced, commanding her vines to pour hot coffee into two mugs and giving them to her. She put one beside Gear, letting him choose whether to take it. “You’re a good kid, Gear. Don’t get messed up too much,”

She stood up and walked out of the room, Gear’s eyes followed her. He sighed, the dread building up again but before it could settle in. Backpack scanned coffee for poison. When the scans came back negative, he retracted his helmet slightly, enough for his lips to show, and drank up the steaming coffee.

The coffee was strong, grounding him. He felt lighter, calm. It had been a long time since he felt like that.

* * *

Richie did think about moving out of the lair and ditching Harley’s unhinged crew once he got his cut from the heist but he didn’t have a solid plan. Where would he go? Sure, with the pay, he could get a modest house back in Dakota or even his own apartment in Gotham but what then? He could go back to being a hero but he barely managed on his own. Gear was lucky other heroes in the area picked up his slack.

He wanted to go back out, be a hero, but it wasn’t the same without Static.

Nothing ever was.

Richie decided to hang around until he came up with a concrete plan or got sick of Harley’s crew, whichever came first. At the same time, he couldn’t deny he’s grown to like them. Harley might be full of crazy but she was also intelligent and considerate from time to time. Ivy wasn’t a bad person, she cared about the environment, though she values nature more than human life. Clayface and King Shark were like supportive weird uncles. Psycho was…

He didn’t like him but the rest of them were great.

What would Virgil say if he saw him working with a rising star villain, Harley Quinn, and her crew? Nothing good.

He was working in the lounge area per usual when Ivy handed him a fresh mug of coffee. “Here,”

“Thanks,” He replied before fidgeting with a comm device he designed for Clayface, who constantly consumes every earpiece without meaning to. _‘It gets lost in all my beautiful clay when I transform!’_ He would complain.

So far, it’s a surprisingly mellow morning, Ivy watching the news and petting Backpack like a dog while Gear was happily tinkering next to them.

“This pity party is over!” Harley announced, crashing into the room and dropping a bag full of cash on the glass table, breaking it on impact and scattering Gear’s tools.

“Hey!” Richie yelped at the same time Ivy yelled. “Harley, the table! That’s the sixth one!”

“Your tech helped us rob a corrupt politician and leaked his nudes for good measure, your cut was huge! And what do you? Sulk and do nerd stuff!”

Richie snarled, picking his tools off the floor. “For your information, Harley Quinn, this nerd stuff, is helping you on your next heist.”

“Our next heist can wait! You just pulled out your first evil gig!” Harley grabbed his shoulders and giggled. “Let’s celebrate!”

“Did someone say celebrate?” King Shark and Clayface stumbled into the room. 

“Yup! One of our own just popped their evil cherry!” Harley cheered.

“First, ew. And Second, I am not part of your crew.” Gear insisted.

Psycho walked into the room with a bag of chips and quipped. “He has to be a bad guy first.”

“Bad guy? Good guy? Whatever. We're just gonna get drunk!” Harley pulled out a fresh stack of 100 dollar bills and waved it at Gear’s helmet. “We could rent a bar out and trash the place.”

“Couldn’t we get drunk like normal people?” Gear groaned. 

“It’s decided! We’re going out tonight! We can even invite Kiteman!” She declared.

Richie turned to Ivy, hoping she’d stop her but she just shrugged. “Just go with it. She won’t stop until we go.”

He groaned, resigning to his fate.

* * *

In a bar where all the local henchmen and thugs of Gotham congregate, Harley and the rest of the team were sharing a round of drinks and having a grand time, even Richie was cracking a few smiles at Kiteman’s horrible flirting towards Ivy. The next thing he knew, Harley was beating up a grabby thug with a baseball bat. Richie didn’t know what happened in between. It seemed wherever the crew was chaos followed.

His helmet opened slightly, revealing only his mouth, Richie resigned at the bar, nursing a glass of whisky and watching Psycho levitate three henchmen before throwing them through a window.

He was grateful he was old enough to drink. 

“Sup, G-man!” Harley giggled, kicking a thug in the face before joining him at the bar. “Shots! Something sugary and strong,” She told the Bartender, who seemed unfazed by the decimation of the club.

“Is this ok?” Gear asked, waving at cataclysm behind them.

Harley drank one shot, “This happens all the time! Like a regular Tuesday, isn’t that right, Cassie?”

The Bartender rolled her eyes before serving other customers.

“You havin’ fun? You gotta admit this is fun.” She asked.

“I guess,” Richie answered, disappointing her, he almost felt bad.

When Harley’s shots were served, a somberness crossed her face. She took a swig of her alcohol and mustered her courage.

“You can leave, you know?” Harley slurred. “I mean you don’t have to stick around, you got some cash and with your tech, you could build an empire.”

Richie blinked, staring at her. The topic was too abrupt and sensitive for having it in a bar but he should have expected it from Harley’s quirky thinking.

“You threaten to reveal my secret identity,” He said flatly.

She snorted. “I was joking and it’s not like you’re being held, prisoner. I think Ivy likes having you around, talking about the ecosystem and whatever.”

He smiled. Ivy had been an excellent company during his stay. He reminded her of Virgil’s sister, Sharon. “Don’t let her catch you saying that.”

“She’d choke me and not in a good way,” Her wink nearly killed Richie, his drink going down the wrong pipe from laughing.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” His drunken laughter nearly hid his bitterness.

Harley hummed, agreeing. “I get it, you don’t know what to do with yourself after depending on someone for so long, You and this Static dude. Me and The Joker.”

 _‘She must have talked to Ivy,’_ He thought with a snort. “Static isn’t the Joker,”

“No shit,” She took another shot. “But the point is, we didn’t know what to do when they exited our lives. I spent weeks sulking and got dumped in a vat of margarita mix while you came out to your homophobic dad and he kicked you out. Both of us ended here,” Harley gestured at the chaotic bar. “But you don’t have to be stuck in this hell hole. There are better places for you, kid.”

Harley kicked another rampaging thug in the genitals when they got too close to them.

“What I’m saying, it’s okay to leave if you want. It’s your choice.” Harley said. “No hard feelings,”

He didn’t want to leave and that’s what’s troubling. Richie liked Harley and the crew's dynamic. For the first time in a while, he felt like he fit in but does he like them enough to turn into a life of crime?

He doesn’t know.

Richie took another shot of whiskey, the alcohol burned his throat. He turned to Harley and stressed. “I am not a criminal.” He won’t kill or harm anyone out of malice, all of his techs are strictly for hacking security systems and frying computers. “But I like making tech for you guys. I like where I am now,”

Harley’s face split into a grin, a few of her teeth were knocked out from the scuffle. “If you ever change your mind, we’ll set up a sick farewell party!”

“Um, no,” He insisted, glancing at King Shark biting a gentleman’s leg. “Let’s just buy booze, takeout, and watch a movie.”

“Awww, you’re no fun but each their own,” She raised her glass and Richie clinked his glass against hers. “Welcome to the team, Gear.”

They chugged down their drinks and let the sound of Clayface singing and the screams of thugs wash over them, Psycho levitating chairs and hurling them, King Shark biting a sixth victim, and Ivy saving Kiteman from being trampled.

It brought a sort of calm to Richie.

“You need a new villain name. Gear sounds too generic. How about Hardware? Maybe, Steel!”

Gear snorted, nearly choking on his drink again.

* * *

Another heist in the bag and more money in Richie’s pocket. They had to rob one of Two Face’s warehouses, security was tight and his henchmen were armed to the teeth. Richie remembered Harley saying _‘It’s all about establishing dominance!_ ’ that the Legion of Doom had to respect them now but Richie wasn’t sure stealing from the Legion’s allies was the smartest idea. 

Harley and her crew got in and out before they could kill anyone because of his tech, he was thrilled no one died because of them.

They were winding down, and he and Harley were playing video games on a console and a flatscreen TV that Harley insisted wasn't stolen.

The game was best out of three, Richie was in the lead.

“Go, Harley go!” King Shark cheered, watching their avatars fight.

“My money is on Gear!” Clayface said.

“You’re going down, Tech man!” Harkey said.

“Are you still doing supervillain names? I’m never gonna be evil.” Gear mashed the buttons of his controller harder.

“Says the man who helped us rob Two-Face!”

Richie was nearly winning the fight until his phone rang. Without looking, he answered through the headpiece of his helmet.

“Yellow!” Richie said, still concentrating on the game.

“Who the hell says that anymore?” Harley quipped.

“Richie,”

Richie dropped the controller, losing his match to Harley. 

“Yeay! I won!” She cheered. “Hey, where are you going?”

Ignoring her, He quickly stood up and walked away, Ivy’s gaze followed him to the corner of the room before she went back to water her plants.

“Mr. H,” Richie whispered, Robert Hawkins, Virgil’s father, was on the phone.

“I heard what happened. You alright? Where are you?”

Richie swallowed, hearing Mr. Hawkins’ voice was too much. It reminded him of when Virgil and Richie were kids. He had always been a kind and gentle parental figure, treating him like an extended part of the family, better than his actual parents.

“I’m alright, Mr. H. I’m with—” Richie glanced over at Harley, Clayface, and King Shark playing video games and Ivy watering her plants. “Friends.”

“Does Virgil—”

“No,” He said firmly, he didn’t want Virgil to ever know, at least not so soon. “And I want to keep it that way until I figure things out.” 

He heard Mr. Hawkins hum, disagreeing with him but respected his decision. “You could stay with us. We always have room here for you.”

Richie swallowed again, his voice tight. “Thanks, I’ll be fine really. I’m trying new things, meeting a lot of...different people. Soul searching.”

“Still can’t help but worry. When you’re done soul searching, you can always crash back here.” Robert Hawkins said. “Virgil’s worried about you, you know. You haven’t called him in a while.”

Richie didn’t need to be reminded. He’s been avoiding contacting Virgil since he was kicked out a month ago. There were short texts like. _‘Busy with college entrance exams’_ or _‘Been busy with hero stuff sorry.’_ or _‘Late for my part-time job, got to go.’_ but Richie never returned calls because he knew the moment Virgil heard his voice he’ll know something’s not right.

“...I’m getting around it. Can you tell him I’ve been busy?”

“He’ll know something is wrong if I say it. It has to be you, Richie.” He was right, unfortunately.

“I’ll call him back...soon.”

“That’s all I wanna hear. Be safe out there, Richie, call us anytime, I mean it. Also, call your mom. She’ll want to know what happened and might kick your dad’s ass.” Robert Hawkin’s sounded so sincere.

“I will, bye, Mr. H.” He ended the call.

Richie wasn’t going to cry, not here, not now. Before he could retreat to his room, a vine tapped him on the shoulder. Turning around, he saw Poison Ivy with two watering cans in her hand. Ivy hadn’t spoken but she passed Richie a watering can, her comforting gesture. He shrugged and took the can from her, welcoming the distraction. They watered the little garden Ivy cultivated all over the lair until she pointed to an empty box planter next to him. Richie stared at the sad thing before watering the vacant soil.

Gear nearly gasped when hints of green sprouted from them.

Tiny leaves with a calming scent were the first he saw. 

**Lemon Balms** , Sympathy.

Second, he spotted were petit white flowers blooming all around. 

**Edelweiss** , Courage.

The last was long yellow clusters of flowers, tying the look altogether.

 **Goldenrod** , Encouragement, and good fortune.

Eyes brimming with tears, he turned to Ivy who gave him a cautious smile but she still hadn't said anything and she didn’t need to. Ivy’s language of plants spoke better than her words.

“Thank you,” His voice sounded small through the helmet. 

“Don’t mention it,” Ivy said. “Seriously, don’t. I have a reputation.”

Gear snorted.


End file.
